


A Warm Feeling in the Cold

by Clarounette



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clarounette/pseuds/Clarounette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cold outside but at least there's warmth in their heart and in their home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warm Feeling in the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fassavoy Fortnightly 8 on LJ.

A cold wind whipped his cheeks. His hair was neatly tucked under his beanie and tinted goggles protected his eyes. Despite the below-thirty temperatures, he felt warm in his brightly colored suit.  
Michael liked skiing. It was the closest he would ever come to flying. He enjoyed the noise the wind was making at this speed while he flew between blurred pine trees. The valley ahead of him was a beautiful sight under its white blanket of snow and he was rapidly approaching the ski resort in which he was spending his vacation with James.  
Eventually he arrived at his chalet. With a skillful twist of his hips, he stopped just in front of the door. And he waited, bathing in the sun.  
A few minutes later, James joined him. The younger man took off his own glasses. Either because of the cold or due to exhaustion, his cheeks and the tip of his nose were red, almost scarlet, and a strange spark lit his eyes.  
Then James smiled. It was like the sky opened and an angel came to him: Michael's chest tightened and he hold his breath. He couldn't help but smile too. They had been together only for a few months, but he already knew their relationship was something that would last. Or at least he would do anything to make it last.  
Michael removed his gloves and took James' face in his hands, slightly rubbing the smooth skin to warm it. "Thanks, honey" James said, his smile even wider.  
Michael brushed his lips against James' chapped ones. "Let's go inside" he said before he opened the door. They both put their skis against the wall outside the chalet and took off their ski boots.

A trip to the mountains had been Michael's idea, but James had clapped his hands when Michael had suggested it. After several weeks of promotion and interviews, they finally had a little time together, and they wanted to spend it far away from London and from anything that could remind them of their work. Since they didn't want to waste too much time on a plane, they decided the Alps would be a good destination. They rented a little chalet in La Plagne. With glasses on half the time, no one recognized them and they were able to enjoy their holidays anonymously.  
Today, for the first time, they had skied the whole afternoon instead of just a couple of hours. Of course they were tired and cold.  
"Gosh, my back is killing me" James groaned. He sat on the couch and put his feet on the coffee table, relishing the feeling of the plump cushion under his ass. After the blinding light of the reflected sun on the snow, it was almost dark in the chalet. But James still closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.  
Michael passed by him to the fireplace. He arranged some crumpled papers and a few logs on the embers of the fire. Soon bright red flames were licking at the wood and warmed the living room. Michael opened his hands in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth after half a day outside in the cold. He turned around. "James, you should go and take a shower. And don't forget to hang your ski-suit for it to dry!"  
The day before, at bedtime, Michael had found James' suit on the bedroom floor, in a puddle of water. He had to hang it himself, and this morning, when James slipped into it, it wasn't completely dry. Michael had chuckled when James had whimpered in his damp ski-suit, and had mocked him. But then James had started pouting. Michael had kissed him gently to make amends.  
He had made it his duty to put a smile on that beautiful face everyday when he had asked James out four months ago. He had been so nervous at the time that he had stuttered. James had laughed and Michael, mortified, had thought he had failed. He was about to turn around and flee. But the younger man had taken his hands in his owns, and had smiled shyly while whispering 'Yes, I'd like to have dinner with you'.

He watched as James stretched his aching limbs, moaning and groaning from the pain the movements caused. "I guess I'd appreciate a hot shower" James responded. He got up from the couch and went upstairs to the bathroom, opening the zip of his suit on his way up.  
When he finally heard the water running, Michael left his place on the hearth. He divested himself of his own suit and hanged it in front of the fire. He was about to make coffee when a voice rose from the bathroom. James was singing in the shower.  
Forgetting the coffee, Michael sat on the couch and closed his eyes. Without thinking he had chosen the exact same spot as James, and the couch was damp under his ass. But he didn't care. He was listening to James' voice.  
He had watched most of James' movies and heard him sing in some of them. James could be a decent singer when he tried, though not particularly talented. But for a reason unknown, his singing in the shower was awful. It was out of tune, and the higher notes sounded more like the scratching of nails on a blackboard. Still Michael liked it, because it was always so happy. It seemed to be the proof he was doing something right.

He must have dozed off, because the light outside had faded. He opened his eyes when James shook him gently. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty" James whispered, brushing the tip of his fingers against Michael's forehead.  
"What time is it?" Michael asked. His voice was rasped and more like a growl. He felt light headed. He must have slept in an awkward position and his legs were asleep. At least it was comfortably warm in the chalet.  
"Almost eight. I let you sleep, you needed it." Michael was about to protest but James put his fingers on his lips, effectively silencing him. "It's okay, I had a book to read." He smiled reassuringly.  
Michael tried to get up and groaned when his legs woke up, millions of ants crawling under his skin. Apparently he had to wait a bit before getting up if he wanted his knees to support him. He spent the time looking at James while his lover kept caressing his face. James' hair was still damp from the shower, and strands of it were standing up on his head. He looked like an oversized kid, a little boy that needed someone to take care of him.  
Gazing lovingly at James, Michael combed his fingers through the younger man's hair. James leaned over him and kissed him. It was a langorous and sweet kiss, lips moving tenderly against each other. When they broke apart, they both sighed happily.  
Then James rose on his feet and put his fists on his hips, a determined look on his face. "Time for you to take a shower, Mr Fassbender." Michael laughed at James' order before nodding. "You're right, Mr McAvoy."  
He proceed to stand up. Fortunately he had regained feelings in his legs and was able to walk up the stairs without staggering. He was positively determined to spend as little time as possible in the shower, away from his lover. It was quick and efficient. He changed into his pajamas in the bedroom and headed to the living room.

He found James sitting on the windowsill, a steaming cup in his hands. Eyes still fixed on the mountains outside their chalet, James said: "There's more for you in the kitchen."  
Michael walked into their tiny kitchen. There was hot milk on the counter, and a box of cocoa powder. He made himself a cup of hot chocolate and joined James in the living room. He stood beside his lover, admiring the vue. The Mont Blanc was looming above the valley on the other side, like a white giant protecting the mountains.  
"I'm glad we're here" James whispered, afraid of disturbing the quiet of the chalet. The only other sound was the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. The flames were projecting a warm glow on the walls. The chalet was cozy, and that was exactly what they both had needed in the first place. They couldn't see each other as much as they wanted because of their schedules, it was frustrating. Those holidays were a blessing, even though they had to negociate to obtain as much as a week.  
Michael had been afraid that spending so much time together would prove to be too difficult. But honestly they couldn't stay away from each other for too long. They were almost joined at the hips. Most of the time, they didn't even have to talk, and the silent conversations they shared were almost as enjoyable as their steamy nights.  
Michael turned away from the window and looked at James. A gentle smile was slowly stretching the corners of his mouth. At that exact moment, James was the embodiment of happiness. Michael fell in love with him all over again.  
Before thinking about what he wanted to say, he blurted: "Thank you." James looked at him with a frown and asked: "What for?" Afraid of drowning into those too blue eyes, he turned away and looked outside. He silently shook his head. Nothing. For nothing, for everything. For being a sweet guy with a kind heart. For his imperfect beauty. For the way he would laugh at a good joke. For the mischief that could be seen in his eyes, sometimes, just before he pulled a prank.  
In the corner of his eyes, he saw James looking at the window again and quickly forgetting his non-sense. Michael's eyes were filling with water.  
 _Thank you for existing._


End file.
